


bitch i got a gun-

by MakeItVoid



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Afterlife, Death, Every problem Reborn has can be solved with violence, Gen, Immortal Skull, Like the Spirited Away train station, confused reborn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29533974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeItVoid/pseuds/MakeItVoid
Summary: Reborn doesn’t know where he is, but for some reason that fact doesn’t concern him. Probably because Skull is here with Reborn.(Reborn dies and Skull can't let go.)
Relationships: Reborn & Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 72





	bitch i got a gun-

Reborn doesn't know where he is, but for some reason that fact doesn't concern him.

He's standing on a concrete platform, maybe ten meters across and five in length, and surrounding him is water. Just water for as far as the eye can see, pure and clear, still and peaceful, showing the undisturbed white sand below. If Reborn stepped off the platform the water would only come up to his knees.

Something inside him recoils at touching the water. His instincts say that the clarity is a lie, a beautiful façade.

He still has his suit and hat. His wallet is in his pocket along with a phone that doesn't have any reception. He finds the usual leather straps encasing his chest, the holsters full with two handguns. He has an extra clip on his left ankle and his right is pressed against a knife.

He's not missing anything and his mind is clear. Or at least he thinks it is. Reborn isn't really sure.

The sky above is a baby blue with fluffy clouds lazily rolling by. The puffy white reflects off the water and throws shadows down onto Reborn's little platform. There's a light breeze and the temperature is not too warm and not too cold.

Everything is perfect and picturesque, something untouched by any kind of horror. It doesn't seem real, and he knows it isn't, because Reborn can't find the sun.

The water laps at his platform as a long row boat pulls up, made of dark wood with spiralling designs carved into the vessel with great care. It wouldn't look out of place in the canals of Venice, ferrying lovers under the stars. It has two bench seats and a faceless shadow as the gondolier.

The shadow is a tall thing with a smooth curve for a head and straight sides, plus two black structures sticking out and holding onto the oar which is just as detailed as the gondola. The shadow nods to Reborn and the hitman nods back.

He walks to the edge of his platform but when he tries to step into the boat the shadow spawns a third arm out of its torso and five stick-thin fingers protrude from it at strange angles. The hand stays still but the fingers glide across the shadow until the 'palm' is facing up, asking.

Reborn knows it wants payment, but he doesn't have anything that would satisfy it. The shadow wants gold coins and Reborn only has cash.

He pulls out a handgun and places it against the shadow's upper area. The gondolier does nothing for a long moment but then reabsorbs its third arm. Reborn says something, perhaps a polite 'thank you', but he can't hear anything so maybe he didn't speak.

He replaces his gun and steps into the gondola, making sure to not touch the water which seems to be growing darker.

He's not sure how long he spends in the boat but eventually he sees another platform in the distance, an identical one to Reborn's. The gondolier shadow changes direction, clearly not expecting the schedule deviation, and pulls up to the dry concrete.

A man is there, with wide eyes and desperate body language. Something is with the man, on the platform, but Reborn can't look at it. It's too bright, or maybe too big, or perhaps something else entirely.

The other man yells something muffled; angry and sad and hopeful all in the same breath. The purple make-up is running, chasing the tears down the man's face. The piercings shine in the non-existent sun and the leather protective gear creaks as the man clenches his hands into fists.

It's wrong, Reborn thinks, because this man should be laughing. Always laughing, always soft and squishy but with the roar of an engine at his back like an army screaming for blood. Lackey. Because this man will stand with Reborn even if Reborn has nothing to offer.

Reborn is on the platform and the gondola is gone.

The thing is still there, standing behind the hitman, its hand resting at the nape of Reborn's neck. It's warm – maybe. It's comforting – kind of.

The other man is screaming, sounding far away; something guttural and inhuman, sounding like metal screeching in a train wreck, sounding like boulders scraping in a rockslide. But Reborn hears something overlapping it all, louder than all the rest.

Reborn hears gunshots.

He relaxes.

The thing behind him says something but Reborn can't hear it – shouldn't hear it - doesn't want to hear it.

The man in purple breaks like coloured glass, throwing rainbows of light and regrets as he drops to his knees. He's begging now, voice ragged and hoarse.

The thing behind Reborn places gentle hands on his shoulders and turns him to face the water stretching out to the horizon. Reborn is guided to the edge of the platform, right until the toes of his leather shoes hang over the edge.

The other man is watching with sorrowful eyes. He says something. Something about a red with ridiculous strength. About shades of blue chasing each other. A green who invents things closer to magic than machine. An indigo so smug and greedy with a wicked humour.

The other man talks about a yellow that got lost. A yellow who tried so hard to protect the colours that it got torn apart in their stead.

Reborn stares down at the clear liquid and doesn't move when the hands press against him, urging him forwards. Reborn shakes his head.

The hands become painful, gripping his shoulders and cutting through his clothes to draw blood. It's only instinct driving him to bring out a gun and Reborn is raising his arm, bending it until the firearm rests next to his head, upside down and pointed at the thing.

There's a supernova in his chest, blinding yellow shining through layers of clothes. The flames turn him into a figure dripping liquid gold for a brief second and then all of that power is condensed and concentrated into his gun.

The hitman doesn't miss, even though he's not looking.

The retort of the weapon is loud and breathtakingly clear after so many maybes and muffled vagueness. The hands fall from his shoulders and Reborn turns to find the thing gone, the other man staring at him in frozen disbelief.

Reborn doesn't know where he is, but for some reason that fact doesn't concern him.

Probably because Skull is gaping up at him, still just as pathetic as always and so, _so_ comfortingly familiar.

**Author's Note:**

> whacky hijinks ensue


End file.
